Unprepared for the venom in Jennifer’s voice, Rich stepped back. He hadn’t meant anything by it. He’d just…Hell, he didn’t know what he meant. He drew in a deep breath.
“No insult to your ability to take care of yourself intended, but I feel bad about bringing you out this late at night. At least, let me see you safely to your car.” He nodded toward the drunk, who seemed more alert than before and was unabashedly watching them. “Maybe that guy is harmless, but I sure would hate to wake up in the morning and read that you’d been attacked.”
Truth was, Jennifer had been too aware of Rich’s potently masculine presence to notice the other man. This wasn’t the safest part of town, especially this late at night, and now that she’d seen the drunk, she wouldn’t feel comfortable in that alley. “Thank you,” she finally said. “I’m just a little touchy about that ‘little woman’ thing. In most cases I can take care of myself, but I do appreciate the thought.”
“Anytime,” Rich muttered, and Jennifer couldn’t help wondering if she’d threatened his manhood. Those special tactics guys were nothing if not macho. They took pride in their strength and toughness.
Too much pride, she thought, if her ex-husband was any example. They shoved every bit of anything they perceived as softness away. They might have seen all the posturing as an advantage, but Jennifer knew that if her ex had been slightly more sensitive to her feelings and needs, she wouldn’t be scraping for a living in this seedy section of this military town.
On the other hand, she thought, as she allowed Rich to take her by the elbow and escort her across the street, she wouldn’t be standing here with this man’s man, now.
Her breath caught. How could she be thinking about that? Rich was no different than her ex: all muscle and macho and very little thought.
But as Rich stood watch while she fumbled in her purse for her keys, Jennifer couldn’t help wishing this were a date. And, it had been a long time since she’d felt this way about any man.
Keys in hand, she looked up at him. What would it be like to close her eyes, press against that magnificent huge body and feel his mouth on hers? She moistened her lips, and her eyelids drifted downward.
Rich took her keys and broke the spell. He opened the car door and waited while she slid behind the wheel, then inserted the key into the ignition. He watched to be certain that she locked the doors and stood guard until she backed out of the alley toward the street.
She idled at the curb and watched through her rearview mirror as he strode purposefully out of the dark side street and across to his truck. Then, after he’d shut his door behind him, she steered her car toward home.
Jennifer sighed. She hadn’t even thought about dating since her divorce, but something about Rich made her think about rumpled sheets and hot, sweaty sex.
No, she told herself firmly and shook her head. She had finished her business with Rich. Unless he decided to come in and pay his bill in person, she’d never see him again.
And, as far as her heart was concerned, that was probably just as well.
RICH STOOD in the middle of the parachute shop, cluttered with stacks of equipment and materiel unloaded from the C-130 transport plane that had brought him back to base. He wiped his sweating forehead with the back of his arm. He looked down with disgust at the dark, damp smear, but there was nothing he could do about it. He had to get all the stuff stowed in the equipment locker before he could even think about getting out of these stinking clothes and into a cool shower.
The last few weeks had been so busy that Rich had barely had a chance to think. He’d made several trips to Pensacola to see his sister and had finally begun to believe he was getting to know her again.
Then he’d had to fly off on a long exercise, and he was probably back at square one.
After the first couple of visits with Sherry, the reserve between them had lifted. She still appeared sad sometimes, but Rich had learned how to dash the sadness away. All he had to do was ask her about her children.
On her better days, the sense of humor Rich hadn’t seen since they were kids would make an appearance. When he saw that, it was possible to believe that Sherry would get through it.
He hadn’t met the kids yet, and frankly, that didn’t bother him much. There was an ops saying that he subscribed to wholeheartedly. He loved kids: barbecued.
Maybe that wasn’t really the truth, but the thought of dealing with such tiny little beings scared him spitless. He figured he’d rather parachute into a nest of rattlers than have to deal one-on-one with a four-year-old. He hadn’t really known any kids since he’d stopped being one himself, and now they seemed so…so small. Someday, he’d like to meet his niece and nephew. That thought stopped him. Niece and nephew. He was an uncle. He swabbed at his eyes, stinging with sweat and grime from the long trip.
“Hey, Sarge.”
Rich looked up and chuckled, relieved by the distraction. Uncle Sarge. That had a kinda nice ring to it. “Yeah. What?” he said to the peach-fuzzed, admin clerk only recently assigned to his unit.
“You going to the Labor Day picnic out by the Sound? We’ve got to win back the volleyball trophy from the P J’s.”
Rich had to chuckle. Baker had been with the unit all of two months. He had no bragging rights to win back from the pararescue jumpers. Rich did, but he had something else to do this weekend. Rebecca Tucker was getting married, and he’d been invited. It was to be Sherry’s first excursion out of the hospital. And the kids would be there.
He shook his head. “Nope. I’ll be out of town. Got a family thing to go to.”
It was the first time since he’d joined the air force that he had a place to go to on a holiday.
“Too bad,” said Baker.
“Yeah,” Rich agreed, his throat suddenly tight. This was probably no big deal to anybody else, but for him it was something big. He’d spent too many holidays alone on the base pulling extra duty for someone who had someplace better to go, or feeling like an extra wheel butting in on somebody’s holiday plans.
There had been a time when he’d have tried the bars along the Miracle Strip, but not tonight, and he’d never really enjoyed the feeling of being drunk. Maybe it was the specter of his father’s alcoholism rearing its head, or maybe it was just good common sense. Anyway, he wasn’t going to go out tonight.
He had an occasion to rest up for. He smiled to himself. He liked the idea of having family to go to, even if Rebecca Tucker wasn’t technically family. It was the closest thing to it he’d had in years. And his family would be there. Sherry and the kids were his family.
Hell, he liked the idea of having family.
JENNIFER SAT at her computer terminal and shuffled among the neat stacks of paper, looking for something else to do. She wondered if she’d ever get to the point where she didn’t mind being alone.
Al had returned from his Alaska trip, but he’d already left to spend the weekend with his wife and kids. She’d finished up the one project she’d had pending, and now she had nothing to look forward to other than the long holiday weekend.
Holidays were the worst.
That was, maybe, the only regret she had about divorcing Duke. Now that her parents were retired and traveling across the country in a rented RV, she had no home to go to. Even a husband who drank too hard and flirted too much was better than being alone.
No, she told herself, anything was better than putting up with Duke Bishop, his infidelities and lies. He might have thought he was God’s gift to women, he might have thought that he’d done her a big favor by marrying her and taking her away from Scranton, Pennsylvania, but he’d done her a bigger favor by letting her see the real him before they’d had children.
She let out a long gusty sigh, exited her program, turned off the computer and wandered toward the front door. She had a couple of plants at home she could work on. They were probably rootbound. Repotting them would kill at least an hour.
Then she’d have the rest of the three-day weekend to fill
with nothing left to do.
Spending a long weekend alone and not having anybody to be with was far more preferable than trying to make a marriage work with somebody who hadn’t been interested in working it out with her.
She couldn’t help thinking about Rich Larsen and how he now had family to spend this weekend with. How lucky he was. She couldn’t help wondering what it would be like for him.
Jennifer sighed again and let herself out, locking the door behind her. No, she wouldn’t think about him. Their business was over. She’d never see him again.
RICH SHOULDERED open the door to his apartment and dropped the heavy, canvas A-3 bag just inside. The room smelled musty and dank, thanks to the pervasive Florida humidity and being closed up for a week. Ski, his roommate followed him in.
Ski dumped his bag next to Rich’s, then let out an amazed whistle. “Whoa. One of us must be pretty popular.”
Rich followed Ski’s gaze to their answering machine which was lit up like a Christmas tree. “Hell, I don’t know anybody here. They can’t be for me. They must be yours.”
Then he realized that they could be from his sister. He lunged for the machine, hit Play and listened.
A woman’s voice he didn’t recognize. Rich started to call Ski, but then he caught a name. “This is Rebecca Tucker. Please call me.”
Ski stood by, waiting to see if any of the machine’s blinks were for him.
That message for Rich was followed by six more, all placed since noon, and each seeming more desperate. None were for Ski, and he drifted off to unload his gear.
Heart lodged in his throat, Rich dialed the number. Someone answered, and he recognized the voice as the same one in the frantic messages. He started to identify himself, then realized he had reached her voice mail.
Muttering a curse, he slammed the phone back down and played the messages back, trying to glean an alternate number or some other useful information from the urgent messages. Nothing.
Rich let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Now what? Maybe, he should call the hospital. But, hadn’t Sherry told him that she was going to be transferred to the rehab facility? She’d told him where it was, and he probably had the number stuck away somewhere, but right now, he couldn’t put a finger on it.
He started to dial Rebecca again, but as he reached for the phone, somebody rang the doorbell.
“I’ll get that,” Ski called. “You find out what’s going on with your sister.”
Rich glanced in the direction of the door as he pushed redial. The door opened out of his line of sight, but as he watched, Ski backed away. His hands were raised; a look of incredulity was on his face.
Ski glanced over his shoulder toward Rich. “Hey, good buddy. I think this one’s for you. I never saw that woman before in my life. Much less those rugrats.”
Dropping the receiver back on the cradle, Rich hurried to the door.
There, in the doorway, was Rebecca Tucker wearing a look of utter panic. In her arms was a munchkin that looked like Yoda’s first cousin, and at her side stood a very tired-looking little girl. What were they doing here? Surrounding them all was a pile of pastel-colored baggage that looked like, at least, three times as much of the stuff he’d off-loaded this afternoon.
“Oh, Rich. I am so glad to see you. You have to help me. I’m desperate,” Rebecca said as she stepped inside. She turned to Ski. “Would you mind bringing all that in?”
Ski, a bewildered expression on his face, looked at Rich, and all Rich could do was nod.
“What’s happened to Sherry?” he finally asked when it became clear that Rebecca was too flustered to explain.
She shifted Yoda to her other hip and shook her head. “Nothing. Sherry’s fine. You’ll see her tomorrow. She’s out of the halo and in a neck brace. I’m sorry, I didn’t think how it might sound when I left all those messages.”
Ski strode in with a pastel contraption in either hand. “I guess I should introduce you to my roommate,” Rich said. “Ski Warsinski, meet Rebecca Tucker. She’s the friend of my sister’s who’s been taking care of her kids.”
Ski nodded and went back for another load.
At least Rebecca had the decency to apologize for scaring him out of his mind, but she’d yet to explain why she was here. He remembered his promise to help out in whatever way he could, and hoped she wasn’t calling that one in. He had a feeling she was. Why else would she have the kids and all their gear with her? “Okay,” he said warily. “What do you need?”
Ski went into the kitchen.
The frantic look faded, and Rebecca managed a weak smile. “The lady I had lined up to keep the kids for the wedding and honeymoon stumbled down the stairs and broke her hip. So far, I haven’t been able to find anybody to take over.” She shrugged. “It’s a holiday weekend and the last minute, at that.” She looked at him hopefully.
Rich didn’t have to hear the rest to know what she was working herself up to, but how should he respond? He only had to look into the mirror to see his father’s face reflected back at him. He shook his head vehemently. What if he’d inherited more than just his father’s looks?
What if he harmed one of those kids?
Why hadn’t she postponed the wedding? Of course, he knew the answer: Sherry had told him she’d insisted that Rebecca go on with it.
“Please, Rich. You have to help me out here.” When Rich was slow to agree, Rebecca went on. “I promise it’ll only be for tonight. I’ve got feelers out everywhere, and I’ll keep looking. Surely I’ll have someone by the ceremony tomorrow.
“In the meantime, I have to run. I have to be at the rehearsal dinner in…” She glanced at her watch. “About an hour and a half.” With that she handed Yoda to him. “This is Carter, and this is Caitlyn,” she said, urging the reluctant little girl toward Rich. “This is your Uncle Rich. He’s going to take care of you until Mrs. Dahlstrom is better.”
“But, Rebecca…” Rich protested. “They don’t know me.”
“You’re not a complete stranger to them, Rich. They’ve seen pictures of you that Sherry had.”
“I don’t know anything about taking care of kids,” Rich insisted. “What if I…?” He didn’t dare think of the rest of that sentence.
“Carter is an easy baby,” Rebecca told him. “He’ll be fine as long as Caitlyn is here, and she knows what to do. She’ll be a big help to you.” She blew a kiss toward the kids. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks.” She dashed out the door.
Rich looked at the door closing behind Rebecca. She hadn’t even given him a chance to say no. Then he looked down at Carter. His face was screwed up and turning red, and before Rich had a chance to try to calm him down, he let out an ear-splitting shriek guaranteed to blow a 100-amp stereo speaker at fifty paces.
“What the hell was that?” Ski asked, coming out of the kitchen, a sandwich of Dagwood proportions in his hands.
“I think Carter wants something to eat. It is supper time. I guess we should try to feed them. Is there any more sandwich stuff in there or did you use it all?” Rich noticed one of those pacifier things tangled in the baby’s clothes and popped it into his open mouth. Carter continued to cry, and the pacifier dribbled onto the floor.
“There’s plenty,” Ski answered, his mouth full, as Rich scooped up the pacifier.
“Okay, Katie, let’s go get some grub.” Rich, gingerly holding Carter, headed toward the kitchen to wash off the pacifier. “Does your brother like ham sandwiches?” When Caitlyn didn’t respond, he turned.
Caitlyn was still standing where he’d left her, her hands on her hips, her lips pursed, looking like a miniature schoolmarm. “You can’t feed him sammiches. He don’t got no teef.” She rolled her eyes at him as if she were talking to an idiot. “And my name is not Katie. It’s Caitlyn.”
“Okay. Okay.” Of course, the rugrat had no teeth. He knew that. “Did your Aunt Becky bring anything for me to feed him?”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes again. “He gots baby foo
d inna diaper bag.”
“Get it for me.” He tried bouncing Yoda, but all it did was slow the wails down a notch. He ran water over the pacifier and stuck it back in, holding it there until he felt Carter latch on. Relieved, he let go. So did Carter, and the pacifier squirted out of his mouth as the kid let out a wail as shrill as an air-raid siren.
Caitlyn grimaced, but she did as he asked. “You gots to heat it up inna microwave,” she said as she handed him two jars of revolting looking stuff.
“Okay. Do it.” He had enough trouble just keeping the baby from squalling any louder.
“I’m not ’lowed to touch the microwave.”
Rich sighed and looked at Ski.
Ski held up his hands, one still holding half a sandwich. “Hey, don’t look at me. They’re your niece and nephew.” He crammed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and chewed. “You got your hands full. I think I’ll just go crash at Murphey’s. He’s still pretty messed up since Allison dumped him. He can use the company, and I sure as hell know more about how to handle that mess than the one you got here.” He wiped his hands on his pants and headed for the door. “I’m outta here.”
“Coward,” Rich muttered, but he envied the man, too, for having Murphey to go to. Danny Murphey was another guy on the team and had been Ski’s roommate before he’d set up house with Allison Adler, the woman he’d thought he was going to marry. He guessed Ski owed Danny just like he owed Sherry. If he just hadn’t gone and opened his mouth and volunteered to help.
No, he told himself sternly. He’d passed arctic, desert and jungle survival school, no sweat. He could surely handle two kids until tomorrow.
Famous last words, Rich couldn’t help thinking when, two hours later, he’d scraped the last of the cereal and strained peaches out of the jars. He’d managed to put together a peanut butter sandwich for Caitlyn with his right hand while he’d attempted to shovel food into Carter’s mouth with his left.
Rich wasn’t sure how much had gone into Carter. He must have scraped most of it off the kid’s face and the rest was splattered all over the kitchen. He sighed and looked around the filthy room. It looked as though somebody had fought a paint ball war in here. But, Carter was quiet for the time being, and that little piece of silence had to be worth all the mess. Rich slapped a couple of slices of ham between two pieces of bread and shoved them into his mouth. He guessed he’d have to hose down the kitchen, but for now he had to get the kids settled while he could. He didn’t know how long the lull would last, but he wanted to make the most of it.
Uncle Sarge Page 4
